


Volta do mar

by Jael, pir8grl



Series: Voyages of the Canary [7]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Drama & Romance, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:51:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8grl/pseuds/pir8grl
Summary: The crew of The Canary mourns one crew member - and prepares for the arrival of another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Cape Town**

The Canary stood at anchor out in the bay. The buildings that comprised the waterfront had burned down to embers during the night, but the acrid smoke drifted across the water, stinging eyes and coating throats. 

And bringing nightmares.

In her cabin below deck, Sara slowly drifted into wakefulness. Without thought, she reached for Leonard, but felt only empty space. She blinked open her eyes. 

Alone. She was alone. 

Sin sat huddled against the door. When Sara moved to more fully look at her, the girl slowly raised her tearstained face. “I’m not supposed to let you out,” she whispered. “The air is bad up top.” 

“I don’t care.” Sara’s voice was rough and empty. Another time, she would have winced to hear it.

Sin’s small face was troubled, but she looked determined. “Amaya says you’re supposed to eat that bread to settle your stomach.” 

Sara hauled herself to her feet, stopping a moment to steady herself, and compressing her lips into a thin line when her stomach threatened to rebel. 

“I am going up top,” she said bluntly, all gentleness gone with...with…, “and then I am going ashore to look for Leonard.” 

Sin scrambled to her feet, alarm on her face. “Mister Rory said -”

Sara moved her aside, managing some gentleness after all. “I will deal with Mister Rory.” 

“Sara -”

Jefferson was waiting on the other side of the door. His face and clothes were stained with soot, and his eyes were weary. “Captain -”

“Get out of the way, or get put down.” She would not show gentleness to anyone else. She _couldn’t._

“Mister Rory said -”

Sara shoved him out of her way. Hard. She didn’t pause afterward, but stalked up on deck. 

“Nate! I want the long boat,” she called imperiously.

The other young man turned to her with a sorrowful expression. “I can’t, Captain.” 

“You can, and you will, or so help me -”

“He can’t, Captain,” Martin said gently from behind her. 

Sara turned on him with murder in her eyes. 

“We’ve only got the one boat, Sara,” he explained calmly, not backing down as he once would have, “and Mister Rory and Miss Jiwe have taken it ashore to look for Leonard. Now please...please...go back below out of all this smoke and ash. It can’t be good for you or the baby.” He took a deep breath. “I promise you, Mister Rory will come and speak to you as soon as he returns.” 

Sara ignored him. “Nate! Raise the anchor! Take us in close to shore.” 

“He can’t.” Martin rested his hands gently on Sara’s shoulders. “Sara, he can’t.” 

She glared at him. Her small frame was trembling beneath his hands, but she wasn’t crying, and that, Martin thought, was the most disturbing thing of all. 

“There were some ships and small boats that didn’t move out from the docks in time,” he told her. “The docks themselves have collapsed. There’s debris under the water. If you try to move The Canary close to shore, you’ll rip a hole in the hull. 

“Mister Rory is Leonard’s oldest friend. You know he will do his utmost to find him. Trust in that. Trust in him. Leonard would want you to take care of yourself - and the little one. And there’s someone else who needs you right now.” 

He nodded over Sara’s shoulder to where Sin was standing in the doorway with tears trailing down her cheeks. 

Sara stared at him, then let out a long sigh-- and turned and opened her arms. Sin flung herself into the captain’s embrace. Sara held onto the girl for a long, long moment, finally looking up when she heard the boat coming alongside.

“Go below,” she told Sin quietly. The girl looked up at her, clearly torn.

As they held each other, Mick and Amaya climbed aboard. Their faces were grim and gray with exhaustion and soot. Quite obviously, neither had slept since... 

“Martin,” Sara said quietly, giving Sin a little push in his direction. 

“Captain, I -”

“Take care of Sin, please,” Sara said in a monotone.

The professor nodded sadly and led Sin below. 

Amaya hurried forward to wrap a comforting arm around Sara. Sara shrugged her off. 

“Mick,” she said sharply.

In all his days, Mick Rory had never seen pain as naked as what was burning in Sara Lance’s eyes at that moment. 

He took a deep breath. “Sara...he ain’t there.” 

Something flashed in Sara’s eyes. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“We searched every inch of that place that we could. There was no body.”

Something changed in the set of the captain’s shoulders. “So...he escaped? Even gunpowder doesn’t generate a strong enough fire to have completely consumed a body. If you couldn’t...couldn’t find him, then he must be alive.” 

There was the barest hint of hope in her voice, and Mick hated to crush it but -

“I don’t see how he could have,” he told her. “The whole damn waterfront went up. And why wouldn’t he have come home? Snart...Leonard...he would never leave you. Especially not now.” 

Amaya stepped close again. “Sara, we did find this,” she said gently, setting a small, round object in Sara’s hand. 

It was Leonard’s watch...his most prized possession. Sara wiped it carefully on her-- ** _his_** \--shirt and tried to open it. Her hands were shaking too badly. 

“You said you searched every inch of the place that you could,” Sara said desperately. 

“Sara,” Amaya replied, “there were places where the floor gave way...the boardwalk, too. There could be bodies trapped under the water. There’s no way to know.” 

“And even if we could get down there, the bodies...they burned,” Mick added, pain in his tone. “There might not be any way to tell if it was him...an’ even if we could...you don’t want to remember him like that.” 

The big man looked more broken than Sara could ever recall seeing him. 

**_“I_** don’t want to remember him like that,” she agreed numbly.

Amaya bit her lip. “Sara, I’m so sorry...and I’m sorry that I hit you last night. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Sara said stonily. 

“No, you ain’t,” Mick countered. 

Sara glared at him. “I want to go ashore.” 

“No,” Mick said bluntly. “It ain’t safe. The air is bad, and there’s too many places you could go right through the floorboards--what’s left of ‘em.” He shook his head. “Snart was the closest thing I ever had to a brother, and I’m telling you--he ain’t back there. Maybe I can’t save him, but I can damn well save you and his baby.” 

“Sara,” Amaya said placatingly, “Leonard loved you and your baby more than anything. He’d want you to be safe. Please...please go below, out of all this ash and smoke.” 

“And if I don’t?” Sara demanded bitterly.“What are you going to do--hit me again?” 

“If that’s what it takes,” Amaya replied in as steady a tone as she could manage. 

Sara gazed at her for a long moment. The other woman flinched momentarily away from what she saw in her friend and captain’s eyes...then set her shoulders and stared back. Sara wasn’t the only one who’d known tragedy and pain.

After a moment, the captain nodded. And without another word, she turned, and took herself below.

* * *

It was later--much later--before Amaya again tapped on the door to Sara’s cabin. “Sara, it’s me,” she called after a moment’s hesitation. “Can I come in?” 

“Why the hell not?” 

Well. That wasn’t particularly welcoming, but Amaya entered anyway. Sara was huddled on the bunk with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was wearing one of Leonard’s shirts to accommodate her belly. She didn’t seem to have washed nor changed clothes since the fire, and her hair hung in tangled disarray.

Amaya frowned. An untouched plate of food sat on the desk, with flies buzzing over it. 

“Sara, you’ve got to eat, and you need to take care of yourself,” she said in a scolding tone, knowing gentleness would not help her here. Would not help either--any--of them.

Sara just flickered a glance in her direction with burning eyes. 

Amaya sat down on the bunk beside her captain--her friend. “And we need to choose a destination.” 

“No.” 

“Sara,” Amaya tried again, using a tone such as she might for a skittish wild animal, “there’s nothing for us here. It’s been days. If there was any chance at all that Leonard had survived, we’d know by now.” She sighed. “I’m worried about you. We all are. We need to think about finding a safe place for you to have this baby.” 

“No,” Sara muttered. “I won’t have people thinking my child is a bastard.” 

Amaya couldn’t help a rush of surprise at the response. Sara was the last person she’d thought would care about such social mores. “No--Sara, no--of course not! You wear Leonard’s ring, and you have his watch.” She nodded firmly. “We’ll say you’re his widow. Hell, we’ll--all of us--swear to it, before the law, if need be. No one will think any the worse of you or your baby.” 

“If I can’t have him, I want to be here, in this room, with his things around me,” Sara whispered, glancing around the room at Leonard’s coat, and his books, and all the other little signs of his presence. Her own silver hairbrush that he’d so loved to run through her hair. And the bolt of beautiful silk that he’d insisted on getting for her. 

“I know,” Amaya murmured, reaching out to gently push a tangle of hair away from Sara’s face. She decided to try a different tack. “Leonard was tidy to a fault,” she pointed out. “If he were here, he’d be trying to get you to bathe and change clothes, and maybe even air the room and have some fresh bed linens. What do you say? I’ll have Sin fetch some hot water, and maybe a nice cup of your favorite tea?” 

Sara nodded listlessly. 

“Good.” Amaya squeezed her shoulder, then moved to the door and gave some brisk orders. 

***

Not much later, Amaya was carefully combing out Sara’s damp hair. “What do you think of London?” she asked, trying to sound businesslike. “Raymond would see to it that you were comfortable, and Moira Queen has an office there. We‘d be able to refit and resupply, and you could send a message to your family.” 

Sara shivered, even though the room was warm. “And Lisa. I have to tell her.” 

“We’ll help you figure out what to say...and you’ll be telling them about the baby, too.” 

Sara nodded. “All right,” she sighed, defeated. 

The sound nearly broke Amaya’s heart.

* * *

Leonard Snart awoke to find himself chained. 

On a ship, he guessed, from the rough wood under him and the motion, which wasn’t helping the pounding of his head. He groaned and rolled over, dragging himself to a sitting position. 

“Good. You’re awake,” a voice said from the shadows. 

“The child…” Leonard groaned blearily, trying to put pieces together as he usually did so well. His brain refused to cooperate. 

The voice laughed; a rich, dark sound that grated on Leonard’s already battered nerves. 

“Who the hell-?” he muttered.

“Some call me The Magician,” the voice observed. “It will serve for now. If it will ease that brand-new hero’s conscience you seem to have acquired, there was no child. Making others see what I want them to see is a particular gift of mine.”

“What do you want with me?” Rage was bubbling up now. It was better than pain, better than fear. He could harness rage.

“Why, Master Snart, I want you to do what you do best. I want you to steal something for me.” 

“Go to hell,” Snart spat promptly, trying to crane his head.

A pair of fine, silver-buckled shoes and legs encased in white silk stockings crossed Leonard’s field of vision as the man in the shadows began to pace. 

“This might be a good time to make a few things clear, Master Snart,” the voice pointed out. “I can create illusions from a distance, but I can also change reality from a distance. You have a sister named Lisa Ramon, who lives in Cambridge. She has a daughter named Lenora. Named for you and Sara Lance, I believe? And speaking of Sara Lance, she has parents and a sister in Marblehead.” There was no doubt whatever what threats lurked in the man’s pause. No doubt at all. “Do we have an understanding?” 

No point in dissembling, not now. Leonard nodded weakly. 

“Good,” the voice replied jovially. “Now, continue to behave, and I might just let you have something to drink.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Tangier, Morocco**

The voyage north had seemed interminable to Sara. After a while, she began to wonder if she wasn’t trapped in some purgatory of unchanging seascape. Amaya helped her to produce some comfortable clothes for herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on clothes for the little one, even though she could feel the baby moving sometimes now. 

Sin, delighted in her role as big sister, had produced some blankets and tiny garments that Sara cherished despite, or perhaps because of, their imperfections. 

All she could think of was how much Leonard would have adored resting his hand on her belly to feel the fluttering movements. She thought about just how that child had come to be there. She just **_missed_** him, on so many levels. She missed the sound of his voice in her ears, and the feel of his clever hands on her body. He might have found a way to dissuade her from exploring the busy port at this point (no doubt involving some form of cheating at cards), but he would have brought her treats and found ways to distract her from her growing discomfort. 

She picked up the little cat that Sin had made for the baby and clutched it tightly to her chest, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Amaya prodded Mick, trying to get him to move enough for her to slide back into the bunk. She’d gotten up when she heard Sara crying, and Mick had unconsciously sprawled into the warm spot left behind. She didn’t want to wake him, really -- just get him to budge up a little. She knew he was exhausted -- hell, they all were. They’d all known that keeping their strong-willed captain out of mischief for nine months would be an **_interesting_** experience, but no one had ever imagined having to do it without Leonard. 

Mick finally grunted and turned on his side. Amaya slipped into the bunk and curled against his chest. 

“Awright?” he slurred. 

“She’s asleep.” 

Mick made an incoherent sound and wrapped his arm around her. 

Amaya curled her hands into his shirt, and pressed her cheek to his chest. After a few moments, Mick became aware of tears soaking into his shirt. He blinked his eyes open slowly, then rolled onto his back, pulling her close and sliding his hand through her hair. 

“Hey.” 

“I’m sorry,” she snuffled. 

“S’fine.” 

“You need your rest.” 

“So do you.” 

Amaya tried very hard to settle herself, as Mick stroked her hair with a gentleness that would have surprised anyone else. 

“It’s just...this should be the happiest time of her life.” 

“I know,” Mick rumbled. “And it stinks that we can’t do nothing to fix it.”

* * *

Later, she wouldn’t be sure what had awakened her. A small sound, perhaps, or a rush of air. Either certainly caused deliberately.

But Sara’s eyes opened, and she sat up in a single smooth motion, sliding a dagger from a special sheath concealed under the mattress. 

“Hello, beloved,” the shape in the shadows told her calmly.

“Nyssa?” 

The taller woman just smiled slightly, taking another step forward.

Sara sighed and lowered her arm, though she did not lay the weapon aside. “I won’t ask how you got aboard. Just tell me you didn’t hurt anyone.” 

“It would have been a suitable punishment for being so lax as to allow me to slip past them.” 

Sara lifted her chin. “I’m the only one who gets to punish my crew.” 

“Of course,” Nyssa replied with gentle amusement, actually smiling.

For some reason, the rare expression irritated Sara. “What the hell is so funny?” 

**_“That_** most definitely is your child,” Nyssa replied, nodding toward her, echoing her own words of long ago and far away.

Sara’s free hand dropped protectively to her belly. “Is there some point to this visit?” 

Nyssa lost her smile. “Are you perchance acquainted with a man named Malcolm Merlyn?” 

Sara sat up cross-legged and set the dagger down, a prickle of alarm running down her spine. “He’s one of the richest men in the town where I grew up.” 

“And do you know how he came by his fortune?” 

Sara shrugged, watching her closely. “He’s a merchant...although, recently, we’ve heard he’s been dealing in opium.” 

“Indeed.” Nyssa frowned. “It has come to our attention that he is quite interested in the whereabouts of something called the Maximillian Emerald.” 

“And?” Sara’s tone was curt.

“And where is your heroic gentleman?” 

Sara paled, staring at her. “He’s dead.” She knew her voice cracked on the words, but didn’t much care.

However, Nyssa didn’t react beyond a slow blink. “If that is the case,” she murmured, “then I am truly sorry.” 

Sara’s gaze dropped to the hand that rested over her baby. “Leonard would never leave his child, if that’s what you’re trying to imply. There was a fire…” 

Nyssa tipped her head to one side thoughtfully. “No, I do not believe he would ever leave you...voluntarily.” 

“Dammit, Nyssa--it’s too late at night for this crap.” It was easier to channel her sorrow into anger, so she gave in to the impulse. “What are you trying to say?” 

Nyssa’s voice was steady. “I am trying to say that Malcolm Merlyn appears to be in the market for a rather remarkable jewel, and your gentleman is known to be a rather remarkable jewel thief.” 

“And he is **_dead,”_** Sara ground out, voice cracking with tears. 

“Are you certain?” 

“I told you, there was a fire…” 

“And did you see his body?” Nyssa demanded, her tone shocking Sara out of the teetering balance between rage and tears.

“No,” she shot back. “The others...they wouldn’t let me go back with them to search. There was no body, only his watch.” 

Nyssa merely raised one elegant eyebrow. 

“That watch was his grandfather’s,” Sara explained. “It has a portrait of his sister inside. He would never give that up.” 

“Just as he would never give up you and your child. Not of his own free will.” 

“Your point?” Sara asked, struggling to contain tears--and hold her temper.

Nyssa gazed down at her former lover, not without compassion. “I believe that Malcolm Merlyn seeks the Maximilian Emerald, and I believe that he is trying to enlist your lover to steal it for him--or has successfully done so.”

Sara refused to allow herself the foolishness of hope. “How do you know so much about some merchant from the colonies?” she demanded, ignoring Nyssa’s last words.

“Really, Sara. Where is it that you think he disappeared to, all those years ago, when his wife died?” 

Sara looked at her sharply. “Malcolm Merlyn was with the League? Would he have known Damien Darhk?” 

“Perhaps. Why?” 

“Because Darhk was after the emerald,” Sara mused. “When I met Leonard, he’d stolen it to ransom his sister. My crew did some research, and there are legends attributing strange powers to the jewel.” 

“That I do know.” Nyssa’s tone suggested she would give no further information on this particular topic, and Sara didn’t ask.

“Could Darhk be involved in this?” she asked instead. 

Nyssa shook her head. “My father is...amusing himself. I doubt Darhk will ever see the light of day again. Tell me, do you know the whereabouts of the jewel?” 

“I do.” 

“And your--”

 ** _“Leonard,”_** Sara snapped. “His name is -- was -- Leonard.” 

Nyssa accepted the correction without comment. “And does Leonard know where to find the jewel?” 

“Yes.” 

The dark-haired woman looked thoughtful. “The name that Malcolm Merlyn took when he joined the League was Al Sa-Her.” 

“The Magician.”

“Indeed. Malcolm Merlyn has the motive and the means to have staged Leonard’s death, in order to obtain his services.” 

Sara narrowed her eyes. “Leonard would never --”

“Not willingly, perhaps, but --”

“But Malcolm would also have the means to force his hand,” Sara finished. “And wouldn’t hesitate.”

“What would it take to ensure Leonard’s cooperation?” Nyssa mused, watching Sara intently. “Who would Merlyn threaten?” 

“His sister,” Sara replied instantly. “Maybe my family, too, but he would do anything to protect Lisa and his niece.” 

Nyssa dipped her head. “Where is the emerald, Sara?” 

“London.” The captain nodded decisively. “We were headed there anyway. We have friends...the others thought it would be a good place…” 

“You know, you could still come home.” The other woman’s voice was oddly gentle, uncharacteristically tentative. To no avail.

“Nanda Parbat is no place to raise a child,” Sara stated flatly. 

“Really?” 

“Present company excepted.” 

Nyssa smiled, and made a soft sound that might have been a huff of laughter. “Incipient motherhood becomes you, beloved.” 

“I miss you,” Sara admitted quietly, watching her.

“And I, you.” Nyssa stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss to Sara’s mouth. “I think we will meet again before this is done.” She paused at the door and looked back. “And I hope that you find your Leonard.”

* * *

Sara wandered up on deck and strolled over to the rail, looking out at the city. The crew exchanged glances. She was wearing one of the soft shirts Amaya had helped her make, and a loose pair of breeches. Her hair was neatly braided and the little blue glass pendant glinted at her throat. 

“Nate!” she called after a moment.

“Yes, ma’am?” 

“Would you go to the market for me?” 

“Certainly, Captain,” the younger man replied, with amusing eagerness. 

Sara gave him some coins and instructions and sent him on his way. As she turned to look at the others, they all pretended they hadn’t been staring.

Sara, in turn, pretended not to notice.

***

An hour later, she was sprawled comfortably in a shaded spot of the deck, gnawing bits of grilled lamb from a stick, while Sin happily tucked into a delightfully messy pastry. There was a basket full of local delicacies on the deck between them. 

“What’s going on?” Mick wondered from his place at the wheel. 

“I don’t know,” Amaya murmured in reply, “but she’s calm, and this is the most I’ve seen her eat in a while, so just let her be.” 

***

Eventually, Martin called Sin to her lessons, and she departed with somewhat less than her usual enthusiasm. Amaya took her place, settling gracefully on the deck next to Sara. 

“You look well today,” she offered. 

Sara stilled in her search through the basket for another snack. “I don’t think I’ll be well for a very long time.” She didn’t voice _‘if ever.’_

“But something’s changed,” Amaya persisted. 

Sara sighed softly, having an inkling of what Sin must feel when she tried to put one over on the adults. “I had a visitor last night.” 

“Oh?” Amaya was instantly on her guard. 

“Nyssa was here.” 

“Sara...are you sure it was real?” The captain’s nightmares had understandably increased in frequency and intensity since losing Leonard. Some nights, she woke screaming from visions of the warehouse exploding, and heaven only knew what gruesome details her imagination had filled in. Other nights, it wasn’t uncommon to hear soft sobs from within the cabin. 

“Yeah, she was really here.” Sara’s tone was dry, which was, Amaya decided, better than angry or hurt.

“Why? Do we need to run?” Amaya looked doubtfully at Sara’s basket and the captain’s general posture.

“No, she’s not after us.” Sara shook her head. “She came to tell me that Malcolm Merlyn is after the Maximilian Emerald.” 

Amaya pursed her lips. “Well, I don’t really see how that concerns us, but we can certainly tell Raymond when we see him. He can have his father increase security --”

 ** _“No.”_** The captain’s tone was sharp and she straightened abruptly, making the other woman blink in confusion.

“Sara? You’ve not making sense,” Amaya said gently, which just made Sara’s expression sharpen even more.

Sara reached out and grasped the other woman’s arm with bruising intensity. “Nyssa thinks Leonard might be alive.” 

Amaya sighed sadly. “Sara…” 

**_“Listen._** Malcolm Merlyn is a former member of the League of Assassins.” 

“I didn’t think there was such a thing. I mean, aside from -”

Sara cut her off. “I don’t know the details, but he has the skills, and the means to have faked Leonard’s death, to get him to steal the emerald.” 

Amaya shook her head, earning herself a renewed glare. “Sara, Leonard would never do such a thing. Especially not now.” 

“He might, if Merlyn was threatening his sister and her baby.” 

Amaya fell silent. Aside from Sara and their own baby, Lisa and her child were the most important people in Leonard’s life. There was simply no way he would stand by and let them be threatened or harmed. 

“What do you want to do?” she asked finally, knowing there was would be no arguing with Sara about this.

“Go on to London, as we planned. Warn Raymond. And maybe…maybe...” 

Amaya smiled brilliantly. “Maybe,” she agreed.

* * *

“We’re underway, Captain,” Amaya reported later, stepping into Sara’s cabin. While the captain would normally be on deck for that, she’d started ceding more duties to the others as the pregnancy progressed. 

“I noticed.” Sara looked up briefly from the expanse of fine silk that she was working with. 

“Can I help?”

“Please.” 

Amaya stepped over to the basin and washed and dried her hands before touching the beautiful material. “This will look lovely on you.” 

Sara glanced down at her belly and smiled wryly. “I’m not too sure about that right now, but I thought I should at least try to dress the part for calling on the Palmers in London.” 

Sara was silent for a few long moments, reading the pattern carefully, trying to figure out how the pieces went together. “I owe you all an apology,” she murmured, without looking up from her work. 

“You do not,” Amaya countered. “Carrying and birthing a baby is hard work.” 

Sara raised an eyebrow at that. “Aren’t you the one who pulled Leonard aside to tell him I wasn’t made of porcelain?” 

The bo’sun’s expression was serene as she began to pin pleats into place. “I told him nothing that wasn’t absolute truth. You are the strongest person I know, but even you have limits, and losing the one you love is a wound that takes a long time to heal.” 

“Still…” 

“No. If you think you’ve got something to make up to me, then this is what you do: you rest, and you mourn, and you heal. Do that for me...and for him.”

* * *

Far away, Leonard was also reading plans and putting pieces together. His conditions, however, were not nearly so comfortable.

Multiple escape attempts had earned him the return of the shackles on his hands and ankles, as well as a detailed recitation, after the last, of his sister’s daily routine...and the appearance of the growing Lenora. He’d decided to change his approach to this whole matter, after that.

It’d been a while, but he was a thief, and a good one. He could do what this...Magician...wanted, with minimal violence and loss of life. And maybe, just maybe...

“How goes the planning, Master Snart?” came the jovial voice from behind him, making him wince, a movement quickly concealed. Instead, he scowled, glancing over his shoulder and brandishing the papers in his hand.

“If you want me to pull this off,” he said coldly, “I need better information. These figures for the guard rotation don’t work out at all. I need facts I can rely on.”

The other man chuckled, an amused ripple of laughter that made Leonard’s skin crawl. “I’m so sorry the intelligence obtained for you is so...lacking,” he said with amusement. “It’s so hard to get good help these days, don’t you agree? You have to fall back on all sorts of...inducements.”

He was pointedly looking at Leonard’s shackles. The thief narrowed his eyes. He’d learned a little bit of arrogance when dealing with the man was a good thing. 

“I have a plan coming together,” he said, voice still chilly. “It will get you what you want. But I need…”

“Yes, yes. I will...pull some strings.” The Magician smiled, an expression that made Leonard’s blood run cold. “See, it works much better when you cooperate, Master Snart. I know you’re good at what you do. We can help each other, you and I.”

Leonard hoped fervently that the disgust wasn’t showing on his face. “Well, for now, I just need better information,” he hissed back. “And architect’s drawings for the full building wouldn’t hurt either. These are incomplete.”

“Very well.” The amusement was still there. “Good day, Master Snart. Carry on.”

Leonard ignored him, continuing to study the papers, hiding his rage and his fear until the other man was gone. Then he leaned his forehead on the wall next to him, taking a deep, steadying breath before he could start planning again.

He wasn’t positive how long the Magician had held him captive. It must be...Sara must be...

“I’m coming, Sara,” he muttered. “I swear.”


	3. Chapter 3

**La Rochelle, France**

They had just made port, Sara’s banner snapping in the breeze, when it happened. 

“Madame la capitaine?” a port official called from the dock. 

Sara had started to turn automatically, when Amaya caught her eye, flicking a quick glance at Sara’s belly. Hiding a sigh, the captain nodded slightly and sidled back out of sight as Amaya stepped forward, gesturing to Martin to accompany her to translate if needed. 

Sara, meanwhile, went below in search of a cup of her favorite tea. She tried very hard not to think about how Leonard always seemed sense when she was in need of that small comfort, or how often she caught herself trying to pass him her mug. 

She knew that this was what she and Amaya had discussed and planned, and she’d been trying to step back gradually, but this was the first time it had happened in front of a stranger, and it stung her pride. She made her way back to her cabin restlessly, knowing Amaya would find her to make a report as soon as she could.

But there was something in her room that hadn’t been there before. 

A parchment, sealed with red wax, and addressed in flowing Arabic script to Ta-er al-sahfer lay in the precise center of her bunk. She stepped quickly back to the passageway, one of her ever-present knives in hand, but there was no sign of an intruder. 

Sara sank down on her bunk and broke the wax seal with slightly shaking hands and began to read. 

_Beloved, I hope you are well._

_I believe our suspicions to be correct. I traveled to the home of your Leonard’s sister and found a paid assassin lurking there. She did not prove any particular challenge to me, but I knew her by reputation. She was known as the Pilgrim, and her services were quite costly to secure. Although she died without betraying her employer, I believe Al Sa-Her to be responsible. I left another of our number there to keep watch, and journeyed north to see that your family was safe._

_I did not realize that your sister was wed to Al Sa-Her’s son -- or that he would sink so low as to threaten his own daughter-in-law._

Sara paused in her reading, momentarily stunned. Laurel and Tommy were now **_married,_** and she hadn’t even known. 

After a moment, though, she shook herself. This was the life she’d chosen. Likely there was a letter announcing the marriage at some office or other of Moira Queen’s. Still, Sara felt a pang at having missed the event. True, she and her sister had had their differences, but they’d patched things up that last time she’d been home. She wondered how Laurel would react to the news that she was to be an aunt. 

Sara took a deep breath, and squeezed her eyes closed briefly to focus, then continued reading. 

_However, it seems that your family is under the protection of a masked archer, one who wears a green hood and bears a certain resemblance to the Robin Hood of your legends._

_Merlyn himself does not appear to be in the colonies at this time. Interrogation and observation suggests that he is en route to London. Before he perished, one of Merlyn’s underlings revealed that Merlyn sought the Maximillian Emerald in order to free an associate who is being held in a ‘dark fortress.’ If this is so, and Merlyn intends to move against the League, my father will not let that pass._

_Know that your families are safe, and I will soon be in London to settle this matter, once and for all._

 

***

Sara was still lost in thought when Martin tapped at her cabin door. 

“What can I do for you, Professor?” she asked, glancing up as he peered inside.

Verdant flew in the open doorway and perched on the corner of Sara’s desk. She narrowed her eyes when he proceeded to squawk “Pretty ladies!” 

“How very rude,”Martin muttered, shaking his head at the bird. “Ah, Captain...I was wondering if I might go ashore while Mister Rory is seeing to the supplies?” 

“Certainly. Do you need Nate?” 

“I should be fine on my own. We are in a civilized port for once.” 

Sara looked down for a long moment, then sighed and looked right at the older man. With everything that had happened, she’d been remiss in a duty she took very seriously--keeping an eye on the welfare of her crew. All of them.

“Martin, how are you doing?” she asked gently. “I know you were very...unsettled...by the incident -”

“The incident where I killed a man?” The scholar’s eyes were direct as he regarded her, but his tone was also gentle.

Sara nodded soberly. “I should have paid more attention -”

“Captain, you have been understandably distracted.” Martin shook his head. “I’ve never been a particularly religious man -- much to my parents’ disappointment. They wanted me to be a rabbi, you see. Had me spend years in studying for that when I dearly wished to be studying other things.”

“I never knew.” 

“No one does, really. But, as I was saying, I’ve never been a particularly religious man. Still, I have found some comfort in prayer and reflection, recently.”

“Do you want to go ashore to find a -- a church?” 

“Synagogue, and no, Captain.” Now, he looked a little uncomfortable, but continued meeting her eyes. “I wish to consult with a physician, and perhaps acquire some new medical books. I want be sure that I am prepared to help you, when the time comes.”  
Sara’s first reaction was to say firmly, again, that she didn’t need help. That she would be fine, and there was no need.

But...there was. And she understood, a bit, about the internal drive to make amends, if only in one’s own head. And what better than bringing a new life into the world to balance the deed of seeing one out?

“Thank you, Martin.” Sara smiled and laid a hand on her belly. “I appreciate that.” 

“I always seem to be patching up injuries.” The scholar smiled a little. “I think it will be a pleasant change to welcome a new life. And perhaps that can be my atonement.” 

“Martin, you saved Sin’s life. You’ve nothing to atone for.” 

“My head agrees with you, Captain, but my heart...well, let’s just say that’s still a bit bruised.” 

 

* * *

Sin wasn’t the only one creating things for the crew’s new arrival. Nate had built a cradle, which Mick had adorned with surprisingly delicate carvings of leaves and flowers, through which the face of a carved canary peered. Jax had fallen back on his training as a shipwright to construct a beautiful Noah’s ark as a baby gift, even though it’d be months before the youngest addition to the Canary crew would be able to play with it.

Spirited discussions arose as to which animals should be included in the menagerie to go with the ark. There was, of course, a pair of tigers. Mick had carved them, and Sin had carefully painted them to resemble her sadly missed striped friend. 

“What’s that?” Nate asked, dubiously eyeing the creature Mick was carving. 

“It’s a kraken,” the first mate replied, carefully picking out miniscule scales on the sinuous creature’s curved back.

Amaya laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to hide a smile. “Mick, this is for the baby, remember? I think a pair of giraffes would be more suitable.”

“No reason we can’t have both.” 

Amaya took a moment to consider how to reply to that, making Jax laugh.

“What’s a giraffe?” Nate asked. 

“Well, it’s sort of like a very tall horse, with an extremely long neck, and a spotted hide.” 

“There ain’t no such thing,” Mick scoffed, picking out another tiny scale.

“I could say the same for your kraken,” Amaya replied, a trifle tartly. 

“Is so. Saw one once.”

“I assure you, Mister Rory, giraffes are quite real,” Martin interjected. 

“Isn’t there a picture in your book?” Sin asked, from where she’d been watching and listening to this byplay curiously.

“Indeed. Run and fetch it, would you, please?” 

“And don’t wake Sara!” Amaya added, before Sin could let the door bang shut. 

Once the girl was gone, Mick reached into his toolbox and pulled out a small wooden cat, which he handed to Amaya. “Paint that up to look like Soot, would you?” he asked, with a wink. 

The bo’sun smiled, and leaned in to plant a kiss to the top of his head. 

The ark wound up with both a pair of giraffes...and a kraken.

 

* * *

By this point, good behavior--more or less--and cooperation had led to the removal of the shackles. The Magician trusted him to stay put, at least, and to continue working on his plans. The man himself had reviewed them multiple times at this point, and had accepted that Leonard not only knew his business, but that he was putting his all into the...project.

Well, what choice did he have, really?

Much to his own deep disturbance, there were times Leonard had to take a mental step back and remind himself that he really didn’t want this heist to work, even as he had to plan toward it. The love of the game was ingrained deep in his bones, all the planning and the putting together of pieces, and even though he hadn’t wanted to steal for his father, he had loved the mental challenge of working out a plan and carrying it out smoothly. 

But if he lost himself in the plans and the numbers and the maps, he could forget exactly what he was doing, forget that he was trapped, that he was forced into this for the sake of those he held dear even as he was far away from them.

From Sara.

They’d been at sea a few days now, heading inevitably for the end run of all this planning, when he heard the Magician’s voice rise from elsewhere in the ship. In the way of most older ships, this one had its quirks and oddities, including the way voices traveled. Leonard had discovered that in the past, but he hadn’t managed to hear anything interesting or helpful...until now.

“...what do you mean...protected?” 

Leonard darted a glance back at the door, then moved cautiously toward the corner in which he’d managed to hear a few things before. At first, he eschewed climbing onto the low table to better hear the words that seemed to come from just overhead, but the next word he heard had him completely abandoning his dignity to hoist his long, lanky form up onto the surface, pressing an ear to the wall in an attempt to hear something, anything.

“Ramon…”

The Magician sounded angry. Was that good? That had to be good. Leonard swallowed through a mouth gone suddenly dry and kept listening.

The other voice sounded vaguely apologetic and a little frightened. Probably wise. “...Pilgrim...gone...League...guarding...we can’t get near…”

“...and...Lance girl...my son?”

“Archer…”

Different pieces were starting to come together now. Leonard continued listening in silence, feeling a tide of relief starting to rise as he pieced things together. When the voices finally died away, he carefully climbed down, then made his way back to the plans still spread out on the other table.

Lisa, and Lenora, were safe, as safe as they could be. So were Sara’s sister and her parents.

And he knew who the Magician was.

Leonard looked down at the architect’s drawing underneath his hands, then carefully smoothed it back out, flattening the wrinkles caused by clenching hands.

And as he did, the wheels began to turn.


	4. Chapter 4

**London, England**

Raymond Palmer strode quickly through the halls in response to the message that a Mistress Snart was there to see him. He wondered what could have brought Lisa Snart back to London….and actually wasn’t she more properly called Mistress Ramon? 

There was something not quite right here. Raymond frowned as he walked. He hated not knowing quite what. These kind of surprises...they were almost never good.

As he entered the parlor, he caught sight of his visitor, looking out a window. A fine silvery-blue silk that Anna would be envious of fell in graceful lines from the lady’s slender shoulders, and her golden curls were artfully arranged. Wait-- hadn’t Lisa Snart brown curls? And then she turned. 

“Sara?” Raymond exclaimed. “That is -- Captain Lance!”

“I thought ‘captain’ might be a bit hard to explain to your people, just now,” Sara admitted, turning fully so he could see her silhouette. 

Raymond blinked, then grinned. “You look splendid!” he exclaimed with his usual enthusiasm. “Where is Leonard? We must have a toast to celebrate.” 

Sara faltered, then, and Raymond took her elbow solicitously and guided her to a comfortably upholstered divan. “Forgive me,” he said worriedly. “Please, be seated. Shall I ring for tea? Sweets? Is there anything you fancy?” 

Sara looked at him curiously. “Are you and Anna…?”

Raymond actually blushed. “Er...no. Not at the moment, anyway, but of course, I’ve heard things from other gentlemen at the club. But where is Leonard?” 

“That’s what I’ve come to speak to you about.” Sara took a deep breath. “Leonard is...well, we don’t quite know, right now.” 

He stared at her, clearly confused. “But...how could he do such a thing? I know we didn’t see eye to eye at first, but the way he looked at you -- he - I --”

“Raymond,” Sara said firmly, laying a calming hand on the indignant inventor’s arm. “There was a fire. Leonard went into a burning building to save a child who was trapped. The building exploded.” 

It amazed Sara that she was able to say it so calmly, and almost amused her how fast Raymond’s expression transformed from indignant to horrified. 

“Oh, Sara. I am so sorry! How can I help?” he asked, the words pouring out, a flood of well-meant...Raymond. “Would you like to stay in our guest house? It must be nearing your time, and you’d have staff to look after you, and a physician- -”

“Raymond,” she tried again. “That’s very kind, but there’s something I need to discuss with you. There’s a possibility that Leonard isn’t dead.” She held up a hand to forestall his enthusiastic questions. “There’s a man named Malcolm Merlyn--” 

“The merchant?” Raymond interrupted, “The one who operates out of Marblehead? I never could understand why he doesn’t just move his operations to Boston.” 

“There are reasons,” Sara explained patiently. “I was given information that leads me to believe that Merlyn is after the Maximillian Emerald.” 

The dark-haired man digested that and nodded firmly. “I’ll tell my father. He’ll increase security at once.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“Sara?” 

“I believe that Merlyn is utilising Leonard to steal the jewel.” Sara watched him closely as she spoke, wondering when she’d so truly started to believe the words herself.

Raymond stared. “But, you said -”

“Malcolm Merlyn has the means to have staged Leonard’s death, in order to secure his services.” And the means to ensure those services...at least up until recently.

“Leonard would never steal from a friend,” Raymond began hotly, pulling himself up indignantly on behalf of the crook who’d become a friend.

“Raymond, what was Leonard doing when we first met him?” 

His mouth dropped open for a second, then he shut it with a snap as realization dawned. “His sister. You think Merlyn is threatening Leonard’s family?” 

“I do.”

“But what about you?” He let his eyes drift to her abdomen, but Sara decided not to embarrass him further by pointing it out.

“I am very hard to kill,” she assured him.

“Well, usually, of course,” he agreed earnestly, “but now?” 

“I can take care of myself, Raymond.” 

The inventor looked, very briefly, like he’d like to argue with her. But self-preservation kicked in before he could open his mouth. “OK,” he said instead, as Sara felt a rush of affection for her friend. “Then what can I do?”

“Well. We need information. And the more brains we have working on this tangle…” Sara leaned over, smiling at him and trying to project confidence. “...the better.”

“Then I’m in.”

* * *

Sin sat on Sara’s bunk watching as Amaya helped the captain out of her new gown. “You look like a princess!” the girl said with an air of reverence that was altogether unlike her usual cheerful impertinence.

“Thanks, sweetie,” Sara replied automatically. She stared into the small looking glass as her bo’son carefully unpinned and unlaced the delicate silk. She wished…

Amaya met her gaze in the mirror. “He **_will_** see you in this,” she promised her friend. “There, now.” She carefully draped the gown and petticoat over the chest where Sara kept her best things. 

Sara immediately sank down into her desk chair. She crooked her finger at Sin. “Come and help me--I can’t reach my feet.” 

Sin knelt at Sara’s feet and carefully untied her dainty brocade shoes. The captain wiggled her toes in relief. 

“Ugh. My feet are swollen!” 

“That’s your body telling you to rest,” Amaya scolded gently. She moved behind the chair and started to take down Sara’s hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to take Raymond up on his offer? You know he’d see to it that you were comfortable and well looked after.” 

“We can’t know if Merlyn has people in the Palmer businesses or house staff. I’m safer here.” 

Verdant chose that moment to breeze through the open door, squawking “Pretty ladies! Pretty ladies!” Soot was in hot pursuit, whirling and falling over his own big feet as the parrot promptly flew back out, a random feather drifting to the ground. Sin scampered after them to catch the skinny, half-grown cat. 

“Well, I see he finally learned to count,” Amaya said whimsically. 

“I’m not so sure about that. He’s been using the plural when I’m the only female in the room!” Sara chuckled. 

“Has he, now?” Amaya said speculatively, smiling to herself.

* * *

Raymond was a trifle disappointed that he couldn’t skulk along the waterfront, but there really wasn’t any point to it, not when The Canary was berthed at the commercial wharf, openly flying Sara’s standard. “Permission to come aboard?” he called jauntily, watching the ship he’d once called home.

“Get up here, Haircut!” Mick bellowed from aboard, shaking his head at the formality.

Raymond patted his hair a bit self-consciously, then bounded aboard the ship. The crew was waiting to greet him.

“Welcome aboard!” Amaya greeted him pleasantly. 

“Will Sara be staying with you for the birth of the child?” Martin asked, after shaking hands cordially. “Have you come to escort her?” 

“Er, well…” 

“No,” Sara stated in a ringing tone, coming up behind the group, “he’s come to help us plan how to rescue Leonard.” 

“The hell?” Mick swore, turning to stare at her with an almost betrayed expression. Talking about this shit just hurt more. “Sara, Snart’s dead.” 

“He’s not.” Sara lifted her chin and stared him down. “He’s alive, and we are going to rescue him. Raymond is here to help.” 

“As am I,” Nyssa added smoothly, from behind her.

Amaya reached for the knife in her belt, and the others cast about for whatever weapons were within reach. Nyssa merely raised an eyebrow in amusement. 

“Stand down, all of you,” Sara ordered her crew. **_“Now.”_**

“You didn’t say she’d be joining us,” Amaya ground out, her expression disapproving, her hand resting on her knife. 

“You **_knew_** about this?” Mick demanded, staring at her.

“What’s going on?” Raymond asked of no one in particular. 

Mick transferred his gaze, now a glare, to Nyssa. “The last time we saw you, you was ready to kill Sara if she wouldn’t go back with you,” he told her in a cold tone. “Gimme one good reason not to cut yer throat and chuck you overboard.” 

“You’d be dead before you took two steps,” Nyssa informed him pleasantly. 

“Stop it, both of you,” Sara snapped, letting her stern gaze sweep the crew. “If we’re going to do this...we’re going to need to do it together.”

* * *

It was always so, when all the planning was done for a heist and all that remained was the waiting. He hated it. Hated the urge to second-guess all his plans. Hated even more when others had the temerity to second-guess those plans. Hated the time to simply wait, and wonder...

Leonard rolled his shoulder irritably as he paced the narrow confines of the room. The physical pain was almost overcome with a wave of missing Sara. She always knew when the weather would trouble the old injury, or when he had been overdoing things. He thought longingly of her hands (and lips) on his shoulders, and even that god-awful smelly liniment. He missed her, so much. 

And he was worried. There were always perils to childbirth, no matter how young and strong the mother happened to be. Being a privateer carried a whole other set of risks. 

And then there was the fact that his Sara loved **_fiercely._** He could only imagine the pain his “death” had caused her. (And his captor had made very sure Leonard was aware that he was presumed dead.)

 

This had to work. It **_had_** to. He needed to get back to her, as soon as he could, show her he hadn’t abandoned her, not in any way.

And if all worked out according to all his plans, and that captor found himself in a much-deserved dilemma, well, so much the better.

Now, if the others could just figure out their end of things...

* * *

Suspicious glances were still being exchanged as the Canary’s crew--and one guest--gathered in Sara’s cabin. 

Amaya looked at Nyssa with a clear challenge in her eyes. “Before we go any farther,” she said, her willingness to defy the other woman for the sake of her friend clear in her expression, “what is the price tag for your assistance in getting Leonard back?” 

“If it’s a matter of ransom, I’ll be happy to -”

“Raymond,” Sara said sharply. 

Nyssa glanced at Amaya with cool approval. “There is no price tag, as you put it. Our interests happen to coincide.” 

“Exactly how much do they coincide?” Sara demanded. “Our goal is to get Leonard back, unharmed. If you’re not willing to help us with that, you can leave right now.” 

“Your Master Snart is not the one who has betrayed the League. He is a hostage. My father will have no interest in his fate.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

Nyssa drew herself up regally. “I am Heir to the Demon. I speak for my father in this matter, and no League member will dare to defy me. If I say your gentleman is to go free, then he will.” 

It was Raymond, of all people, who sucked in a deep breath, then spoke up firmly. 

“Look, we can stand here sniping at one another, or we can get to work figuring out how to get Leonard back. I--I’ll do it myself, if I have to.” 

Mick looked at him with something close to approval. “You won’t have to, Haircut.” 

Raymond looked relieved. He glanced at Sara, saw her smiling with approval, and took another deep breath. “Well, good. Now, I’ve got the architect’s drawings for Palmer House, as well as my family’s social calendar.” 

“How closely guarded is this information?” Nyssa wanted to know. 

Raymond looked thoughtful. “Well, this is our set of drawings. It’s complete. But the house was designed by one of the most prestigious firms in London. They would certainly have a complete set of plans.” 

“Anyone else?” Sara asked. 

“Well...yes. Father spared no expense. The firm that supplied the marble floors and mantles would have at least a partial set of drawings, for the public rooms. Then there’s the glaziers, the carpenters...oh, and the decorators, of course!” 

“Of course,” Nyssa murmured. 

Sara closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “Mick?” she asked. 

“Boss would have a full set. He’d never move on a place like this without it.” The big man shook himself. “Why are we even talking about this?” he demanded a bit belligerently. 

Sara gave him a slightly apologetic look. “Mick, Nyssa came to see me when we were in Tangier. She told me that Malcolm Merlyn was interested in the whereabouts of the Maximillian Emerald, and that he was seeking a master thief to steal it for him.” 

“I never did like that man,” Raymond muttered. 

Amaya shushed him. 

“How come nobody told me about all this?” Mick asked, sounding almost hurt. “And why the hell should we believe **_her?”_**

Amaya flushed uncomfortably. 

Sara looked at her friend steadily. “You were humoring me. That’s why you never told him.”

“Can you blame me?” Amaya asked defiantly, staring back. “If a little hope kept you going…”

Martin spoke up mildly, hoping to defuse the tension in the room. “Mistress...Nyssa, perhaps you might share the evidence that has Sara and Raymond so convinced?” 

Nyssa’s gaze swept the room, then settled on Martin. “The League became aware that Malcolm Merlyn sought the Maximillian Emerald. He has considerable resources at his command. More than enough to stage the death of your friend, and threaten his family to ensure his cooperation. Which he did, for both.” 

“And you know this how?” Amaya asked, glancing away from Sara a tad guiltily.

“Because I journeyed to Cambridge, and dispatched the killer who had been stalking Leonard Snart’s sister.” Nyssa looked at Mick when she heard the man’s intake of breath. “Then I proceeded to Marblehead, where I found a similar situation.”

“Sara’s family?” Martin asked intently. 

“They are well.” Nyssa smiled a little. “It seems you have a friend who is quite proficient with a bow and arrow. He is watching over the Lances. Now, can we cease this nonsense and get to work?” 

“It really does make sense when you think about it,” Raymond said earnestly. 

Mick paused a long moment, then sighed, the sigh of a man who doesn’t particularly want to hope...but can’t afford not to.

“Awright,” he said gruffly. “Let’s see this calendar of yours.” He took the package of papers Raymond eagerly extended, then rifled through the pages, skipping over teas and luncheons and theatre excursions. “Here,” he said finally, jabbing a finger at a prominent entry. 

“The grand ball for Mother and Father’s anniversary?” Raymond asked in surprise. 

“Lots of party guests, coachmen, footmen, musicians, houseguests with body servants,” Sara said consideringly, looking at the papers herself. 

“Lotsa coming and going to set the whole thing up,” Mick continued, nodding to her. “It’s just the sort of thing the boss would pick.” 

“And it’s how we got in the last time,” Sara noted, a small smile on her face.

“And when is this happening?” Amaya wanted to know. 

“Er...tomorrow night,” Raymond stammered. 

For a long moment, the crew of the Canary just looked at each other, a question hanging in the air. 

In the end, though, there was only one answer.

“Well,” Jax said, speaking up when no one else did and picking up Raymond’s sheaf of drawings, “I guess we’d better get to work.”

* * *

Crew members came and crew members went as the planning progressed, but Sara determinedly stayed, talking League tactics with Nyssa, the best type of clothing with which to blend in at the party with Raymond and Amaya, logistics with Jax, and how Leonard was likely to plot the whole thing out with Mick, who’d forgiven her and Amaya for their oversight.

Eventually, though, the goodwill and easy dynamic of the planning ran ashore on the rock of stubbornness--both the crew’s and Sara’s.

“You ain’t comin,’ Sara,” Mick stated flatly, staring at his captain with no sign of uncertainty in his eyes.

 

Sara stared back. “I am.” 

“Sara, it’s much too dangerous,” Raymond tried. 

“I don’t care,” she replied stubbornly. “This is...it’s not business. You’re doing this for me. I can’t just -”

“You’re a liability,” Nyssa interjected calmly. 

Sara’s eyes narrowed as she turned to face the other woman. Several members of the crew took a very obvious step backward.

Nyssa continued her cool appraisal. “You can’t possibly hope to move about undetected, and...”

She shook her head and turned away--then unexpectedly whirled again, throwing a small dagger that Sara deflected clumsily and at the cost of a cut finger. 

Raymond looked horrified. Mick’s expression was stormy, and only Amaya’s hand on his arm restrained him. But Nyssa knew Sara well enough to know that appealing to her as a tactician might be the only way to cut through her stubbornness. 

“And as for your response times…” Nyssa shook her head. “Do you really wish to endanger your lover with your...infirmity?” 

“Hey!” Raymond looked angrier than any of The Canary’s crew had ever seen him. 

“You’ve made your point,” Sara snapped, holding up a hand to forestall her crew and staring at the dark-haired woman. With that, she turned and left the room. 

“Don’t think any of us will forget that,” Mick growled, scowling at the other woman. 

Nyssa tossed her head. “What does it matter, if we can retrieve your Master Snart intact, and keep Sara and her baby safe in the process?”

And none of them really had a good response for that.

* * *

They left the ship in London in the dead of night, the better for no one to see that one of the men had his hands tied in front of him. The man in black strode purposefully down the street, walking with the air of one who believes that no one will stand in his way. The tallest man in the group that followed watched him...and everything else.

Leonard went peaceably, knowing that the Magician’s men wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he managed to break away. Despite the low light, his eyes flicked back and forth to everything, piecing together their location, their route, the demeanor of the Magician and the other men, all those little details that an intelligent man will take into account when making a plan.

It was almost time.

And he was ready.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. Well, as a reward for waiting so patiently, this final chapter is a long one. Enjoy!

Sara wasn't the only one remaining at the ship during what Raymond insisted on calling the Great Emerald Caper. Jax grudgingly agreed to remain behind to help take the ship back out to sea in the case of an emergency.

They all waited for Sara to argue with that, but she just shook her head, a hand resting on her belly. Her eyes, however, dared any of them to return without Leonard.

No one mentioned any possibility of failure.

Mick and Nate were going in as servants, vouched for by Raymond. Stein, who'd uncharacteristically refused to remain behind, was going to escort Amaya, both of them as invited guests. And Nyssa, when asked how she planned to enter, just laughed.

She'd already vanished when the Canary's crew gathered on the desk that evening, waiting for Raymond to find a few moments to arrive with their escort and/or invitation. Jax gently ribbed Martin, who was dressed in his gentleman's best, while Mick and Nate made sure their weapons were well concealed in their own utilitarian outfits.

After a few moments, Mick glanced around, a question in his eyes.

"Amaya still down below?" he asked Sin, who was sitting nearby petting Soot and watching them mournfully. (She'd insisted she should go, as young serving girls could worm their way in almost anywhere. Despite the truth of her words, she'd been refused.)

The girl started to respond when another voice came from behind them, making Sin grin and Mick and the others turn.

"I'm here! I'm sorry; Sara was helping me with my hair."

Later, Jax would tease Mick mercilessly that his jaw had actually hit the deck. And the big man never denied it.

Amaya, dressed in a green and gold brocade gown, smiled at him as Sara, grinning for the first time in a while, stepped out from behind her and walked over to the others. Her dark hair, sprinkled with just a tiny bit of gold dust, was arranged in a simple but elegant fashion on the top of her head and small emeralds sparkled in her ears.

Mick cleared his throat. Once, then twice.

Finally he managed, "You'll outshine 'em all at this shindig."

Amaya's smile grew even brighter. "I just wish  _you_ were escorting me."

"Here, now." Martin's tone was joking, but the pair only had eyes for each other.

"Sorry," Mick managed. "I've gotta...I can't..."

"I know, Mick. I was just teasing you." Amaya winked at Martin too as she neared them. "And Martin, of course." She leaned up and kissed Mick on the cheek, whispering something in his ear that actually had the first mate flushing as Jax laughed out loud and Martin pretended to take offense again.

"All right, people." Sara's voice had some quiet amusement in it, but below that was an intensity that reminded them all why they were here to begin with. "Here comesRaymond. It's time to go."

Amaya whirled and crossed over to her friend. The women studied each other a moment before the bo'sun reached out and pulled her captain into a hug. And Sara, blinking rapidly, let her.

"We'll do our best to bring him back to you, Captain," Martin said quietly. Sara glanced up to see the others all arrayed around them, watching.

"I know you will," she said, taking a deep breath and giving Amaya's shoulder a pat before taking a step back. "Just...be careful too. OK?"

"Of course." Martin offered Amaya his arm, which she accepted. "Ah, Raymond. How…"

But while the Raymond Palmer who rushed onto the Canary's desk was also elegantly garbed for a ball, he was also wild-eyed and breathing heavily.

"Change of plans. My father's going to present the emerald to my mother for their anniversary," he blurted. "He actually had it cut and set into a necklace. And it's going to be on display right out in the open, not in the study like we'd thought."

"Well, that's good, right?" Nate ventured, glancing at the others. "It means Snart'll have to be right out there in the open too, and we should be able to find him?"

"Well, um. There's more." Raymond took a deep breath. "Merlyn is actually an invited guest. Through a family friend, apparently. And he's staying at the house. I mean, he is a prominent businessman, after all. So I don't know about Snart, but  _he'll_ be right out in the open."

"Let him," Mick growled. "I'll…"

"Raymond." Sara's voice was intense. "How long have these plans been in place?"

"I just found out…"

"No." Sara stopped him. "How  _long_?"

Raymond blinked at her. "Well, presumably my father's been planning to do it for a while. He just didn't bother to tell me."

"Who might he have told?" Amaya had caught Sara's meaning. "A 'family friend,' perhaps?"

"Well, maybe…" Raymond blinked again. "You think Merlyn knew?"

Sara nibbled her lip thoughtfully. "But if it's right out in the open...why would he need Leonard for a simple snatch-and-run…"

"No." Mick's tone was definite. "This's one thing I was wondering about. Why go to all that trouble to take someone like Snart, fake his death, even to break into a rich man's safe? There's easier ways to do that. Cheaper men to be bought."

"It's a really good safe," Raymond said a little defensively.

"And I don't doubt that, but…" Sara's silent a moment, then nods decisively.

"They'll have a red herring."

"Excuse me, a what?" Raymond asked in confusion.

"You use a herring to throw bloodhounds off yer trail," Mick explained.

"A decoy," Sara clarified.

"Ah. I've never had that particular experience," Raymond admitted.

"So...you don't think he wants the emerald after all?" Martin asked.

"Oh, I do. But he doesn't want anyone to know he has it. He knows the League is sniffing after his trail quite enough." She thought of Nyssa's words, what seemed so

long ago. "And they know the jewel has powers. If they think he has it, they'll never leave him be."

Mick snapped his fingers suddenly. "Ah."

"Yes."

"Do either of you care to let the rest of us in on this realization?" Martin sounded almost miffed, perhaps because he hadn't been the one to figure it out.

"I'll clue you in on the way, professor."

"Bring him home," Sara said simply as they all turned for the gangplank. "Please."

* * *

**Palmer House, London**

It was child's play for Mick and Nate to mix in with the servants, especially with Raymond's tips on where to go and what to say.

Mick had grabbed a large (if empty) box from a stack in the market on the way there and Nate followed suit, both of them heading toward the back gate. There, Mick had grumbled something about "parts for th' younger Master Palmer..sez they're fer his latest" to the beleaguered-looking servant who was also supervising a steady parade of other newcomers with items for the party.

The harried man had glanced at them, then back over his shoulder at the yard and the activity therein before apparently deciding he had more important things to worry about. He'd waved them in, hurrying back to raise his voice at two boys struggling to carry a large trunk, and Mick had sauntered into the yard and then into the building without a backward glance, Nate hastening along behind him and trying (poorly) not to look shifty.

"Relax," the bigger man growled at him as they paused in an interior corridor. "Nothin' lets people know you don't belong somewhere more'n slinking along lookin' guilty like that."

Nate looked even more guilty (Mick sighed), but shouldered his burden again. "You remember which way?"

"Just follow me, Pretty."

The two men soon left the more-traveled main areas of the house and entered the quieter corridors of the more private family areas. Most of the staff were out preparing for the party, so they were only challenged once...and the servant in question apparently found all it too plausible that Master Raymond was having invention parts delivered now, of all times, and left them to it with a roll of the eyes.

Mick frowned at such shoddy security, but continued on, Nate trailing him.

"Now, Cap'n was right," the first mate said quietly as they walked, following the directions Raymond had given them. "Merlyn won't want anyone to know he got the emerald. So…?"

"So...he'll pin it on Leonard?"

"Not a bad guess...and a possibility if it comes to that...but my guess is they won't let it get that far." Mick glanced at him. "He'll want it safely in his pocket before it even gets out there on display."

"You think…" Nate lowered his voice as another distracted servant rushed past them. "...they have a fake?"

"At least one. What…?"As they'd turned a corner, a young girl careened into them, gasping as she bounced off Mick's legs and staring up at him with eyes wide with alarm.

The big man (sparing a moment to wish that Sin had, indeed, come with them) immediately softened his usual foreboding look, casting Nate a look that said to let him handle it.

"Here, now," he said gruffly, but gently, for him. "What's the hurry? All well?"

"I…" The girl gulped, then continued headlong in a piping voice. "I went to tell John, who's guardin' the study, that Francis will be late, as he's helpin' at the front, but John weren't there. And I don' know what to do, 'cause he's s'pposed t'be there, and I don' wanna get 'im in trouble 'cause John is  _nice_ , but…"

The two men exchanged a look, then Mick awkwardly patted the girl on the shoulder and, setting his box down, hunkered down to get more on her level.

"You let us handle it, OK?" he told her. "We'll check it out. Won't tell no 'un, nor get 'im in trouble. Now, you don't neither, OK?"

The girl nodded vigorously, then, apparently happy to leave her dilemma in someone else's hands, ran off back the way they'd come. Mick and Nate continued down the hallway.

Raymond had given them directions to the study. The door was locked, but there was, indeed, no guard in sight. Mick tried the door again, then grunted and slid a set of lock picks out of his sleeve.

"Snart's a lot better at this," he commented to Nate, "but he made me learn a bit. Let's see if it stuck."

It takes him long enough that Nate was downright fidgety by the time the lock clicked, but Mick nodded in satisfaction and pocketed his picks, quietly opening the door. He glanced in and sighed, but then shook his head and took one step in, motioning Nate in behind him and closing the door.

"Where do you think the guard went?" the historian whispered, covetously eyeing the many books lining the room's walls.

"Probably bribed or tricked into thinking someone wanted 'im elsewhere," Mick returned, stepping around the desk. "He'll probably be back before the other guard was s'posed to be here, so we have to step quick. I'd hoped Snart'd still be here, but… well. Least we know he  _was_ here."

"We do?"

"Uh huh." The first mate motioned to a book lying out on the desk. "Poetry. The same 'un he likes to read with...well. Pretty sure that's a clue. But…" He carefully removed the painting hanging behind the desk, nodding at the sight of the safe there. "Classic tactic here, not gonna fool anyone. But that's a nice safe."

"Can you…?" Nate asked tentatively.

"Nah. But Snart could make short work of it. I think we have to bet that he's already replaced the emerald." He tapped the edge of the safe. " 'Nother clue. Lookit." Nate obligingly moved closer to peer at it. "Scrap of paper, easy to miss. Just to show someone's been in there. Nodding, Mick replaced the painting with a grunt. "Let's get outta here. He's still in here somewhere. I'd bet on it."

"But if he already switched the emerald, why would he still be here?"

"Because with Snart, it's never that simple. I'd bet on it."

* * *

Near the front of Palmer House, Martin and Amaya were also inside, having turned their invitation over at the door and joined the throng of well-heeled citizenry inside.

The pair circled the ballroom, searching for the emerald, but the gemstone was not yet on display. Shaking his head, Martin claimed a glass from a passing waiter, offering it to Amaya before taking a drink himself.

"The empty spot across from the door," he said to her quietly. "At a guess, they'll put the display there."

Amaya nodded, turning to look. "Full view, room for a guard or two...I think you're right."

"Well, we shall see what he others find out. Raymond wasn't certain when the gem will be moved." He smiled at her. "For now, let us avail ourselves of our hosts' most excellent food and drink."

Amaya laughed, a sparkling sound that led a few people nearby to turn and smile at her. "Tired of ship's food?" she asked teasingly.

He saluted her with his glass. "My dear, when you get to be my age, you learn to take such opportunities as you find them."

Not everyone was amused by Amaya's own amusement, however. Another guest, who had obviously been sampling the Palmer's fine port rather freely, eyed Amaya sneeringly. "The Palmers really need to upgrade the criteria for their guest list."

"Obviously," Martin stated cooly, "since they're admitting uneducated baboons. Come along, my dear," he murmured, setting his hand over Amaya's, where it rested on his arm.

"I think you insulted baboons," she muttered.

"As do I."

* * *

Mick and Nate managed to linger near enough the study to see the missing guard return to his post not long later, taking up his post with no sign of ever having been gone. Only minutes later, a new guard arrived to take over...and not long after that, Master Palmer himself, another guard and his son.

Raymond's eyes widened dramatically as he saw them, but to Mick's relief, he managed not to say anything, simply nodding as they passed the group. Nate and Mick paused as the Palmers and guards entered the room, then glanced at each other when there was no outcry-that the necklace, or a necklace, had indeed been found in the safe.

Mick ducked down another hallway, Nate following, and they watched quietly as the group went back in the direction it'd come, this time with Master Palmer himself carrying a large box.

"So, if we're right, Snart's still loose in here, and he's got the real necklace," Mick said quietly.

"And Merlyn is too, and he wants it."

"So the question is...what are either of them going to do now?"

* * *

Merlyn examined the necklace with a lip curled in distaste. "One of the most powerful magical objects in the world, cut up into trinkets to pamper a spoiled rich

woman."

Privately, Leonard couldn't help but agree. The original stone had been mesmerizing. He knew it was a trick of light and shadow, but there had seemed to be flickers of motion in the green depths of the gem. The fashionable necklace was tasteless and overdone to his eyes.

Still, he did feel a certain kinship with Palmer Sr., wanting to do something spectacular for the woman he loved. For all its trappings of conventional wealth, it was quite evident that Palmer House was a  _ **home**_ , and the bonds between family members were strong. Leonard envied Raymond that, although he'd never admit it aloud. It only fueled his desire to get back to his own home, aboard The Canary, with Sara.

But first...

"And you replaced it?"

"Do you hear anyone yelling 'stop, thief!'?" He kept his tone dry, restraining the urge to unleash the tremendous anger coiled within him at the other man. It would serve no purpose...and he'd learned Merlyn had a certain respect for much more clever, if pointed, words.

Indeed, the so-called Magician gave him a slight smile at the rejoinder. The two men were standing in the room Merlyn had been given in Palmer House. Leonard knew perfectly well that the moment he was out the door, the other man would conceal the bauble for later transportation.

"But it's not done yet," the man pointed out, a slight threat implicit in his voice. "As you know. When it is,  _ **then**_ you can go. And…"

"And my sister, her family, and Sara's family are safe."  _Don't let on that you know they_ _already are, don't let him see…_

"Yes. One more thing, Master Snart. And then...you're free."

* * *

Amaya and Martin watched as Master Palmer (Raymond hovering near him and shooting them nervous glances) arranged the emerald necklace on its display and most of the other guests applauded in response to his wife's happy, tearful response to the gift.

There'd been no sign whatsoever of Leonard, although Martin had caught a glimpse of Malcolm Merlyn chatting with a few other men earlier. The dark-haired man had later vanished, only to reappear a short time later, and they were taking care to stay away from him.

Martin sighed, then shook his head, glancing at Amaya, who was watching the Palmers.

"If that is a fake, as the others believe, it's a good one," he murmured to her. "Gemology is hardly my area of expertise, but I would like to believe I have  _some_ observational abilities."

"I suppose it may still be a true emerald," the bo'sun mused. "After all, it's the gem's mystical abilities that he wants, correct? And Merlyn is quite wealthy."

The scholar gave her a startled, then approving glance. "You know, I did not think of it. That is quite true. And even fewer people would be able to tell the true emerald from the replacement, making Merlyn's safety even more assured."

"But the League knows."

"Yes…" Martin said quietly. "And so do we. And so, it is our duty to stop him."

"And…" Amaya stopped abruptly. "Martin. Did you see…? Over by the necklace?"

The older man, who had been gazing at the crowd instead, blinked at her. "No?"

"I swear I saw Snart. He's gone now, but he looked right at me." She took a deep breath, then gave him a joyous smile. "I swear it! Martin, he  _is_ alive! He is!"

"My dear, you're here and you weren't even sure?" But smiling, he took her arm again. "Well, then. We also need to be sure he gets back to our captain."

Amaya thought about how happy Mick would be, as well. "Yes. Yes, we do."

* * *

He was positive Amaya had seen him. He's seen the widening of her eyes, the indrawn breath. Yes, he'd moved back into the crowd immediately, but...she'd seen him.

No matter what happened, now, Sara would know he was here.

In the hallways of Palmer House, Leonard Snart took a deep breath, then another.

And then he carried on with his plan.

* * *

Mick and Nate, dressed as they were in outfits befitting servants simply delivering equipment to Master Palmer's inventor son, couldn't get into the actual gala, not without looking extremely out of place. However, in the time-honored tradition of gawking at the rich folks, no one thought anything of them lingering on the outskirts, watching unobtrusively.

Mick snuck one glance at Amaya, who was watching the emerald, then ripped his gaze away, scanning the crowd.

"If he's given the real emerald to Merlyn, do you think he's already gone? Snart?" Nate asked quietly. "I mean, he'll be wanting to get back to Sara…"

Mick grunted. "He'll be wantin' Merlyn to have somethin' that powerful even less," he said. "And...like I said, I think there's more going on here. Merlyn wants more. And Snart wants more. He'll want…" He paused. "Well. He'll want to take Merlyn down, and hard. You don't threaten Snart's people. You just  _don't_."

"And how…"

"Iffen Merlyn's not caught red-handed-and maybe if he is-he'll wiggle his way out. He's just that kind. So…"

At that moment, a cry went up from nearby. The two men whirled to see one richly dressed guest tumble to the ground, then another, felled by what seemed to be a fistfight between two servants dressed in an unknown livery.

Master Palmer, frowning, started for the outcry...and the guards by the emerald, hesitating just a moment, stepped forward with him. Raymond, after pausing for a moment, grabbed his mother's elbow and started to steer her away from the mess.

"Here we go," Mick whispered, starting to push his way through the watching crowd, Nate following him. But they were going against the flow as everyone turned to watch the chaos, and before they'd made it halfway there, another cry went up.

"The necklace! It's gone!"

The two men stopped in their tracks, even as Amaya and Martin reached their side. Master Palmer turned, the guards flanking him looking chagrined, and for a long moment, nearly everyone in the room stared at the empty display case.

Master Palmer reacted first. "Close the doors!" he said sharply. "Guards! Make sure the other entrances are secure! No one leaves!"

The guards reacted immediately. Also immediately, the fellow members of the Palmers' social class reacted-badly-to the notion that they'd be under suspicion. Voices rose, and the situation started to devolve even more. Mick scanned the crowd quickly, backing up to put his back against the wall, the others going with him **.**

And...there. Just for a second. The merest glimpse before he was gone again.

"I just saw Merlyn," he rumbled. "He looked smug. This is part of it."

"But why would Merlyn  _want_  people looking for the necklace?" Nate asked. "I mean, you said he'd want to be sure his hands were completely clean, or the League…"

"Because they're looking for the copy," Amaya said with surety, on Mick's other side. "He already has the real one, and I'm sure it's safely hidden." She put her hand on his arm, and he looked down into her eyes. "And Mick...I saw Snart, earlier. Just the briefest glimpse, but I know I did. He's alive. Sara was right."

Mick stared at her, then closed his eyes. She let him wrestle with the realization that his oldest friend did, indeed, live before he opened them again and let out a long breath. "Then he's in this up to his eyeballs. Merlyn's still holding something over him, or he's got his own game. My guess is the latter. Maybe both."

He looked at the others too. "You watch. They're going to find the necklace-the copy-on someone else, so while everyone's talking about a missing necklace, Merlyn's not even remotely associated with it. And if anyone ever  _does_  figure out it's a copy, they'll blame the 'thief.' And he has not only insurance for now, but for later.

"So the question is: Where's Snart now?"

Martin looked at him soberly. "And...what's he up to?"

* * *

He saw them, his oldest friend, the scholar, the historian, the bo'sun. How they'd put the pieces together, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't really surprised that they were there.

Sara wasn't. Logically, he knew that she must be near her time, hoped that she was safe on the ship or elsewhere, but he couldn't help the bone-deep chill that came over him at the thought that she might be...

She had to be OK.

And soon, he'd be back with her.

The pieces were coming together.

* * *

Raymond, once escorting his mother out, returned to the others. The inventor wasn't even pretending not to know them anymore-it seemed a bit ridiculous now

that the whole thing had gone south. And now that they knew Snart was truly alive, and here...well, working together seemed the best option.

"You think Snart took the substitute necklace too?" he asked Mick worriedly. "But why, if it's really a substitute? And where is it?"

"Yes. Because Merlyn made him. And I don't know," the big man responded shortly. "Who'd be the biggest problem if found with it?

But Martin was still scanning the room, searching faces, and suddenly paused, looking back at the others.

"This is Leonard we're talking about," he said suddenly. "And you're right. He wouldn't want Merlyn to get away with it. And if he knows we're here...if he made sure Amaya saw him very deliberately...he probably knows Merlyn no longer has anything to hold over him. So…"

The scholar drew himself up then and, before any of the others could stop him, stalked over to Master Palmer and cleared his throat dramatically.

"I know who has your emerald," he said loudly.

Perhaps not every eye in the room turned toward him, but it was close. Raymond, looking harried, rushed to his friend's side and met his father's questioning gaze.

"Professor Stein is a respectable scholar, father," he said-and if there was the tiniest bit of doubt in his tone, well, perhaps he could be forgiven under the circumstances. "If he says he knows, we should listen."

Master Palmer studied him and Martin, then nodded. "Say your piece."

Martin-who was, perhaps, enjoyed his rare chance in the spotlight a bit-lifted a hand and pointed, then, at the dark-haired, dapper man who was watching them from nearby with every trace of amusement.

"Malcolm Merlyn," he said sternly. "It is quite a sordid tale, Master Palmer, and I will not bore you with it at the moment, but search him. Search his room." He paused. "You will find it."

The room erupted in whispers. No matter how annoyed the guests had been before, no one would leave now for anything. Why, people would be talking about this drama for years!

Merlyn, smug with the surety that the true necklace had long since been hidden very well in his quarters, raised his eyebrows at them, smirking, then turned a much more dignified face back to Master Palmer.

"Your men may search me," he said calmly. "I have nothing to hide. Although I had expected to be treating with more respect in your home." He frowned. "This may have to impact our business dealings in the future..."

Master Palmer eyed him, then looked again at his son, this inconveniently impertinent scholar, and the other man-Nate-who'd rushed forward to back them up, gesture that lost some of its helpfulness because he'd forgotten he was still dressed as a servant.

"Very well," the master of the house said finally. "I knew you'd made some odd friends while abroad, Raymond, but...I hope that your friend is, indeed, correct."

Martin let out a deep breath as the other man turned away, gesturing to his guards to approach Merlyn.

"Come on, Leonard," he murmured to himself as Raymond glanced at him. "I remember that once, long ago, we got off on the wrong foot. Now, show us just how good a thief you are."

Merlyn dramatically held his arms up as the guards approached. They began to search him, professionally and thoroughly, but it didn't take long before one of the man dipped a hand down the back of Merlyn's jacket, paused, and withdrew it…

Holding one very sparkly, ornate emerald necklace.

The crowd gasped happily. Such drama! "Yes!" Martin hissed again, not caring much who heard him. Raymond, besides him, grinned, although he quickly wiped the expression off his face.

Merlyn's face was dumbfounded as he started at the piece of jewelry, pure surprise not yet given way to anger or calculation.

"It must have been planted on me," the man blurted out, smugness evaporated. "I didn't touch it. It…"

"We shall see." Master Palmer reached out and accepted the necklace, then addressed the guards. "Take him away and find the constables. We…"

But while Malcolm Merlyn was indeed an astute businessman, most of those present had forgotten he was also a one-time member of the League of Assassins. Stepping back smoothly and then moving so quickly an unwary eye couldn't quite follow, he brought his arm up to catch one of the guards across the neck, then drove a foot into the stomach of the other. He took one step toward Master Palmer and Martin...

And then dropped to the floor like a rock as a dark figure suddenly loomed up behind him.

Nyssa stared at the fallen man a moment, then shook her head. "Take him," she said tersely to the two other black-clad figures behind her. "I will be with you soon."

The gala guests were silent now, staring at the woman as the others dragged Malcolm Merlyn unceremoniously from the room, the crowd parting hastily. They looked, Martin decided, like a group of prey animals recognizing a predator among them. At least three women (and one man) had fainted.

Master Palmer looked profoundly uncomfortable, but visibly decided he had to at least make a token attempt to regain control. "That man, no matter what he has done, was my guest," he attempted. "He is my respons…"

He stopped mid-word at the look on Nyssa's face.

"You have your bauble back," she told him coolly. "Be glad he did no more damage. Ask your son and his friends, who have helped avert more than a simple theft today." She favored them with a smile. "Farewell."

And then she was gone.

* * *

Watching from a hallway nearby, Leonard Snart took one breath. Then another.

Another.

It was over. Over. He could go back. He could...

"Snart!"

Turning, he saw Mick at the other end of the hall, next to Amaya, who was looking resplendent in green and gold.

His family. Some of them anyway.

Leonard tried to greet them. Tried. His voice cracked, and nothing came out.

Mick seemed to understand. He paused, then walked forward slowly, studying his friend's face...and then lunged the rest of the way and wrapped the thinner man in a bear hug, lifting him right off the floor before setting him back on his feet.

"Do not," he told the stunned thief sternly, "do that stupid hero shit ever again. We thought you were dead, Snart. Whole crew mourned you. Sara…"

"Sara." Leonard seized on the words immediately. "Is she OK? She…"

"She's fine. Large, to her annoyance but fine." Amaya, beaming, joined them, touching Snart's arm in lieu of her own hug. "And you?"

"Mostly." He gave Mick another urgent glance. "Lisa? Sara's family? I heard…"

"They're safe. We…"

"Snart!"

Raymond barreled down the hallway, halting in response to a warning hand but still grinning. He was joined by Nate and Martin, everyone talking at once, but Leonard focused in on Martin, nodding to the man who'd been so dismayed to have a jewel thief on board when he'd first met the Canary crew.

"Thanks for figuring it out," he said quietly. "Saved us some time."

Martin nodded back at him, smiling. "The captain," he said quietly in response, "will be so pleased."

"Indeed."

The only one in the group who didn't jump at the next voice, at least a little, was Leonard, who'd expected their next visitor. He eyed Nyssa warily and she eyed him back with some amusement.

"It's all right, Leonard," Raymond interjected hastily. "She's with us-she helped us."

The man and the woman who both loved Sara Lance studied each other for a long moment.

"Are you the one who saved my sister?" Leonard finally asked.

"I am."

Raymond looked from one to the other in confusion. "How could you know that?"

"The Pilgrim had a reputation. Not many could have taken her down. Since it obviously wasn't Sara…"

Nyssa favored him with a rather predatory smile. "Indeed."

Leonard eyed her in return, then obviously decided something.

"Here." He reached into a pocket, making the assassin stiffen in warning, but pulled out...an emerald necklace.

Raymond squeaked. "What?"

"The one I planted on Merlyn was the copy. Now, it's a very valuable copy, with a very high-grade emerald-a very nice gift for your mother-but it's nothing more than a lovely gemstone. No powers." He extended the necklace to Nyssa. "I can't think of anyone better to have this in safekeeping."

The woman stared at him. "You'd trust…"

"Sara does."

"My father…"

"Not your father. You."

After a moment, Nyssa nodded. "All right." She accepted the necklace. "I will keep it safe."

"I have no doubt."

"And is it the only thing you took from the Magician?"

Leonard just smiled at her.

Nyssa smiled back. A real smile, this time. "I did not think so."

* * *

Leonard Snart gave serious thought to falling to his knees and kissing The Canary's deck. Fortunately for his pride, Sin launched herself at him the instant he stepped aboard.

He was a bit dismayed to find that she'd shot up quite a bit while he'd been...gone. She was chattering about how she'd missed him, and all the things she'd made for the baby, but fond as Leonard was of the child, he was only half-focused on her words, glancing around for Sara.

"Welcome home, sir. Captain's asleep in her cabin," Jefferson offered, correctly interpreting his expression. "She does that a lot now."

Leonard nodded his respect. He'd seen the musket and powder horn, and known that the young man would have defended Sara to the death, if need be. "Is she all right?" he asked yet again. "And the baby?"

"She's fine; the baby's fine. It's all perfectly natural," Amaya informed him kindly. She managed to still look lovely in her finery, if a bit weary. "Sin, I think Leonard wants to see Sara now."

The girl looked up at Leonard. "You're not going to go away again, are you?" she asked anxiously.

"Sin-" Amaya began, as Mick and the others came up behind her.

Len settled his hands firmly on Sin's skinny shoulders. "I didn't choose to go away, Sin. A very bad man took me away, and threatened to hurt people I love very much-my sister and her little girl, and Sara's family, too, if I didn't work for him. I would never, ever, choose to leave you, or Sara, or the baby. Do you understand?"

She nodded, then burrowed against him again. "I missed you."

"I know. I missed you, too."

* * *

Leonard stepped inside the cabin he feared he might never see again, and shut the door softly. Sara was there, asleep, propped up on a small mound of pillows, with Soot curled at her hip. The cat flashed Leonard a suspicious look and hissed when he perched on the side of the bunk, then jumped down and slunk over to the mending basket.

"Sara," Leonard murmured, drinking in the sight of the woman he loved, uncharacteristically tranquil in slumber. He'd had always taken great care in how he touched her, so determined not to be like his own father, nor any of the men who'd hurt Sara in the past, but now he was battling a frantic  _ **need**_  to feel her body against his-warm, and safe, and alive. He drew in a deep breath, and willed his hands to stop shaking.

"Sara, wake up."

Sara smiled at the sound of his voice, and he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Mmm...dreaming…"

"No, love, you're not dreaming. I'm here." He cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his lips to hers, perhaps more desperately than he'd intended.

After a moment, Sara's eyes shot open, and she gasped against his lips.  _ **"Leonard."**_

He nodded. "Yes, Sara...it's me."

"I knew...I  _ **knew**_ you weren't dead."

There were tears standing in her eyes, and a quaver in her voice, and he felt a blinding rage at Malcolm Merlyn for putting her through that.

"Sara...I am so sor-"

She wrapped both deceptively strong hands into his shirt front and yanked him down to kiss him fiercely. He caught himself with one hand, and slid the other into Sara's hair, cradling her head. They were both breathing rather heavily when Sara finally loosened her grip.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you both, so much. You know, don't you, that I didn't choose-"

"I know you'd never-" She kissed him again. "I know."

Leonard glanced down at her belly. "Is it almost time?"

"I think so."

Leonard's hands drifted to the hem of her shift. Sara nodded, smiling, and he slid the fabric up over her belly, just in time to see the ripple of a tiny hand or foot.

"Did you  _ **see**_ that?" he breathed, in wonder.

Sara snorted. "I felt it."

Leonard pressed fervent kisses to her belly, caressing it with both hands, hoping to feel the baby move again.

Sara ran her fingers along his scalp, through his close-shorn hair. "I missed you."

"I know." He tilted his head a bit and met her eyes intently. Then he slid his palms farther up underneath her shift, learning her new curves with his sensitive hands, and nuzzling each expanse of soft skin as it was revealed. Finally, Sara grinned and pulled the shift the rest of the way off.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed reverently.

"I am so enormous."

She wasn't, not really, but Leonard knew enough of women to know he wouldn't win this particular battle with words, so he decided to show her just how lovely and cherished she was in his eyes. He gently traced the chain of her pendant with his fingertips, and dropped delicate kisses along her collarbone. He hesitated, one hand hovering over her breast. "Is this...are you…?"

"I'm fine," Sara all but purred, guiding his head with an insistent hand on the back of his neck. She shivered pleasantly at the gentle sensations of his hands and lips.

_Oh, how she had missed him..._

Finally, he chuckled softly against her skin, and looked up with mischief in his blue eyes. "This is normally the part where you complain about my buttons."

Sara bit her lip, and her fingers curled tightly into his collar. "Don't care. I don't want to let go. I'm afraid if I do, I'll open my eyes, and this will all have been-"

"It's not a dream, Sara. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

It was some time later, and Len's buttons had long since ceased to be a matter of concern (his clothes being discarded in a pile on the floor). He ran his hands soothingly over Sara's back and shoulders, trying to impart a measure of calm, and trying very hard not to give any evidence of discomfort when her nails dug into his flesh in a desperate grip.

It wasn't that he hadn't missed her. He had-with every fiber of his being, so much that the feeling had become an almost physical ache, but at least he had known that his beloved was alive, and safe, and in the company of friends who would protect her and her child with their lives. Sara, he knew, had no such consolation. He found the way she'd managed to sprawl her body over as much of his as possible, as if to prevent an escape, delightfully endearing.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

Sara shifted slightly and gave him a look that was equal parts smoldering and impish-a feat only she could manage quite so well.

"You know what I mean."

"It's hard to move when I'm so big and heavy."

"I noticed."

She swatted his shoulder.

Len chuckled and gave her a comforting squeeze and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. His hands roamed lazily over soft skin and silken hair, trying to recommit every inch of her to memory. Sara caught one of his hands and laced their fingers together. Her grip was tight enough to make his bones ache, but he'd endure it-endure anything-to have this; to be safe aboard The Canary, with Sara in his arms, and their baby-

Sara jerked slightly in his embrace and groaned.

"Sara? What is it?"

She groaned again. "Ooohhh...I think maybe you'd better fetch Amaya."

"What?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"Leonard!" Sara snapped, gesturing to her belly.

"Oh! Right. Amaya." He hurriedly climbed out of the bunk and headed for the door.

"Len."

"Hmm?"

"Clothes, Len." Sara sighed, and sank back into the pillows, and felt around the bedclothes for her shift. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The voyages of the Canary will be continued...


End file.
